Sacha Molitorisz

Just occasionally, a young person will make the mistake of thinking that tribes, cliques and crews are unimportant. This erroneous thought occurs to Rick, the dorky protagonist of the 2008 teen comedy Superhero Movie, as he's chatting to a friend on a school bus.

It's a silly scene in a dumb film but the point is valid. For the young, tribalism is rife, thanks to a complicated network of groups defined by clothes, music, slang and outlook. This network, it turns out, has become more complicated than ever.

In the past decade much has changed. Some subcultures have become endangered or irrelevant, others have evolved into new forms and only a few remain unaltered.

Bikies remain bikies, even though their public image has been battered with a bollard. Skaters can still be found at Martin Place in printed T-shirts and thick-soled sneakers. And Surfies - or Waxies - remain prevalent in beach-loving Australia, where teens graduate from Blue Water High to become Layne Beachley. Or Koby Abberton.

Largely nocturnal, Ravers are as bug-eyed as ever. More so, perhaps, thanks to the proliferation of energy drinks such as V and Red Bull, which are mixed with vodka and Jagermeister to give an all-night lift.

Two decades on, rave divides into sub-categories including: Electro Kids, who prefer the electronic pop of Daft Punk and Empire of the Sun and attend festivals wearing only sunglasses and bikinis (the girls) or sunglasses and fluoro undies (the boys); and Jaded Ravers, who were probably there in 1988 and 1989 for Manchester's ecstasy-fuelled summers of love.

Manga Kids and Crusties have faded, Indie Kids have become Emos or Techno Bohos and Lager Louts have either evolved into Jock Dollies or devolved into Lads.

"Lads have a uniform more than any other tribe," says Michael Ambrose, a 17-year-old from Sydney Boys High.

"They normally wear Nike shoes and Nike, adidas or Puma shorts. Their favourite tops are Nautica stripey polos and they always wear Nike 'Dri fit' hats. Their phrase 'eshays' is often mocked by other tribes."

A neat example of tribal vernacular, "eshay" is bastardised pig Latin and is remarkably versatile. The singular can mean yes. It can mean cool or excellent. It can denote Lads themselves, or a session of drinking or smoking marijuana. The plural can mean "Run!"

"Lads normally carry weapons and will try and intimidate people into giving them their valuables," Ambrose says. Lads either grow out of their crew or enrol at Long Bay University. There is some crossover between Lads and Gangstas.

Indeed, in 2010 there is unprecedented crossover between tribes, largely as a result of new technologies. In the past, isolation allowed local subcultures to become strong and distinct. On the northern beaches, boys would surf, read Waves and watch Peter Garrett dance like a lunatic. Surfies lived on a metaphorical island (or at least the Barrenjoey Peninsula); with Facebook, Twitter and BlackBerries, they're part of the mainland.

And the mainstream. Thanks to technology, alternative has become mainstream and underground has become overground, as symbolised in the proliferation of tattoos, which were once the preserve of seamen, wharfies and convicts.

These days there's tribe-hopping and subculture-sampling as kids and young adults dabble instead of immersing themselves. Shallow membership of many tribes is replacing embedded membership of one tribe. (See Hipsters, below.)

"We've termed it the birth of the 'Slashie'," says Chris Wirasinha, co-founder of popular culture site pedestrian.tv. "As in, 'I'm a DJ-slash-filmmaker-slash-photographer.'

"With the rise of technology and access to information, the opportunities for self-expression have been magnified.

"If in the past you wanted to be a DJ you had to spend hours collecting records to find that one piece of vinyl but now you can sit at your computer and download it."

No longer is it mods against rockers; increasingly, tribalism is labyrinthine. The occasional exception is at high school, where divisions can run deep.

"Moving away from one group is very serious," says the mum of a 15-year-old girl. "It's like a divorce."

In this context, what follows is a revised, updated tribal taxonomy - Youth 2010: A Field Guide (illustrations are in the photo gallery).

The Emo

Since entering the mainstream in recent years, world-weary Emos have been big news, branded as self-harmers and suiciders. Who'd have thought floppy fringes and sullen countenances could create such a fuss? In a sense, they're the illegitimate, woe-is-me spawn of Indie Kids and Goths, wearing black skinny jeans, accessorising with piercings and skull logos and spending their weekends throwing darts at one another in Hyde Park. The origins of the tribe lie in the "emotional hardcore" punk of the mid-'80s but some commentators trace their heritage further. In his 2009 book, Hey! Nietzsche! Leave Them Kids Alone!, Craig Schuftan writes: "Emo represents the outer extreme of romanticism, its purest and most dangerous strain, the romanticism of Goethe's Young Werther, of Frankenstein, of Byron and Nietzsche - a philosophy which rejects the idea of the greater good [and says] that emotions, my emotions, are the most important thing in the world, and the only justification I need for my actions, however extreme." Unsurprisingly, the rise of Emo has coincided with the success of True Blood and Twilight. Twilight fans are "Twihards". Happy Emos are "tryhards". Most tribes hate Emos, including Emos. "Emo is a pile of shit," says Gerard Way, singer of My Chemical Romance and paragon of his music-obsessed tribe. Meanwhile, the rise of Emo has seen a corresponding fall of Goth. "They're kind of dying out in younger generations," says one teen. This is great news, primarily for Goths, who love dying out.

The Supergeek

In retrospect, it's all so clear. Just as they had us distracted with Y2K, Dorks and Web Geeks plugged USB cables into one another's ports and merged into Supergeeks. "The only sub group I think that has really emerged as a force in the past decade is the Nerd or Geek," says Robbie Buck, the departing veteran of youth network Triple J. "If you look at a heap of fashion around at the moment - yacht rock '80s polo shirts and geek Buddy Holly glasses - that's the one that has had the most momentum." In the transient world of tribes, Geeks are unchanging. Functional haircuts. Thick glasses. Comfortable clothing. Geek chic is typified by Harry Potter, Hermione and Seth from The OC. At 26, Chris Wirasinha calls himself a Slashie but admits a Geek lurks within. "It's almost as if there's been an evolution of that idea of the Geek," he says. "Look at Mark Zuckerberg from Facebook. Ten years ago he would have been a Geek, now he's dating Victoria's Secret models and his life is being made into a movie. Bill Gates, too. Even the Google guys have a shroud of cool."

The Jock Dolly

The Jock has existed since the time of the caveman. Detractors say he is a caveman. In recent years, however, he has evolved: the stinky, sweaty sportsman has been metrosexualised. The old school Jock was notable for the heady aroma of perspiration, aspiration and VB; the modern Jock, by contrast, wears CK perfume, hair tints, designer tattoos and an Industrie shirt - which he regularly slips out of to flex for a calendar shoot. Shane Warne is an early prototype, with Michael Clarke and Matt Giteau the latest incarnations.

The Gangsta

With their bling and baggy pants, Gangstas are much-maligned as purveyors of graffiti, vandalism and, worst of all, excessive bum cleavage. Truth is, all Gangstaz are bad. At spelling. In other respects, the subculture's anti-social pursuits (shootings, stabbings, drug peddling, gang-banging) are mostly all talk. Adam Osman, a 17-year-old from Canterbury Boys High, says the tribe is easily identified "from what they wear, how they act and how they talk - they're the coolest kids". Outsiders don't always agree. "You're not cool," says an 18-year-old who divides her time between Sydney's east and west. "Most people think you're weird and believe you'd get brutally or fatally hurt if you went to America." In fact, Sydney's Fangstas are not as US-influenced as you might think. "The clothes are probably the thing that's most adapted from the USA," says Osman, citing Nike Air Maxes and G-Star jeans and jackets. "And nowadays everyone wears Ed Hardy or Gucci hats." Musical favourites are a blend of US (Eminem) and local (Hilltop Hoods) acts. With a distinctly Kiwi twang, the vernacular is big on "cuz" and "bro". "We don't talk like Americans," Osman says, adding that Sydney's tribes often divide along ethnic lines. With his Egyptian background, Osman's mates are Lebanese and Kiwi. "There are Arab groups where it would be hard for a non-Arab to join," he says. "But not impossible."

The Punk Lite

When punk first spat out its rage in London in 1976, the sentiment was nihilistic and aggressive. These days, punk - like pop culture generally - has become a hybrid. It's a case of rage against the whatever, with an engaged but unfocused activism that promotes tolerance, inclusion and love. The blend is typified by Gossip, a US three-piece with the requisite tattoos, piercings and propensity to shock. The band's drummer is Emo, their bassist/guitarist is New Romantic, their singer is Techno Boho. Their sound blends all three. "True punk - that of the crazy hair shaved or long with coloured bits, odd mismatched layered clothing - is kind of only found in Newtown and in the older generations," Obmann says. "These days if you're a Punk, you're either an Emo or wear band shirts with black skinny legs and Converse." Image is all-important. "Punks like to pretend they don't give a f--- but they care sooo much," says Gossip singer Beth Ditto. "I remember talking to my friend who said, 'I don't know one punk that doesn't spend an hour working on their look."'

The Glamazon

Generally found in the eastern suburbs, on the north shore and at the University of Sydney, Glamazons are also known as Divas and Preppies. They drip with designer labels and princess attitude. Especially the boys. Their ultimate expression is on the TV show, Gossip Girl, but their local paragon is Ja'mie King, the private schoolgirl on exchange at Summer Heights High. Collared shirts, high-waisted skirts, ties ... the uniform is formal informal. "Glamazons are everywhere," says a University of Sydney student. "It's both girls and guys and basically they're these youths that keep up with all the fashion mags and then dress as if every occasion is their catwalk opportunity. Needless to say, some of these students have a lot of mummy and daddy's money to spend on designer clothes." It's a select tribe but the queue to get in is long. "They [the wannabe Glamazons] are mostly into brand names and music that's on the radio," says Susanna Obmann, 18. "They're kind of the 'norm', teenage schoolgoers who are materialistic and major consumers."

The Hipster

Technology is having a huge effect, including spawning a meta-subculture: the Hipster. "People used to form tribes based on proximity but tribes can now be formed on the basis of interests alone," says Ashley Chang, a 22-year-old editor at pedestrian.tv, adding that the young are more chameleon-like than ever. "If I own a computer I can see what kids in Japan are wearing or what kids in France are listening to. The transfer of information is so quick that the disparity between early adopters and the late majority is almost indiscernible and people nitpick from different subcultures to form their own composite identity. Hipsters exemplify that mix and match ethos." Even the term "Hipster" is borrowed and elusive, having first emerged in the 1940s. Hipsters cherry-pick authentic elements of postwar fringe movements, including beat, hippie, punk, grunge, various ethnicities and gay style, then recycle them with irony and inauthenticity. With youth culture fragmenting and fracturing, this may be the ultimate tribe of 2010: a slippery subculture defined by its resistance to definition. Its detractors dub it the dead end of Western civilisation - always the sign of an intriguing youth tribe.

The Techno Boho and Techno Bobo

In what's left of the underground, you'll find a thriving subculture of new Bohemians, who make music, films, visual art and mixed media installations. This is where the Slashies live. To make and disseminate their work, today's Bohemians are highly technology literate. Some conform to the stereotype of impecunious artists, including Genevieve Clay, winner of Tropfest 2009, who scratches together funding to pursue her filmmaking dream. "People that fit into underground arts culture [are often] emerging creative professionals who still haven't earned any money yet," Clay, 21, says. These are the Techno Bohos. Then there are the cashed-up creatives who sip macchiatos while tapping screenplays into iBooks while listening to Yeah Yeah Yeahs or Bridezilla. These are the Techno Bobos - "bobo" being the French nickname for bourgeois bohemians. "Many of these Bobos hang out at uni drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes while trying to 'outsmart' each other with philosophy and things they've written essays on," says Clay, adding that the Stuff White People Like website lists the subculture's loves. Techno Bohos and Techno Bobos are nigh impossible to tell apart, because Techno Bobos often dress retro or dress down. "A lot of girls wear burlesque or 1950s clothes to resemble Dita Von Teese," says Clay. "And many girls wear vintage clothes and op-shop purchases."